Lost
by Enthusiastic Fish
Summary: Episode tag for "A Desperate Man", featuring Ray Cruz. I found his character rather compelling; so if you hate him, you probably won't enjoy this oneshot. You've been warned.


**A/N: This oneshot totally spoils "A Desperate Man", the episode that just aired in season 9.** So don't read it if you haven't seen it and want to be surprised. Also, it's entirely about Ray Cruz (aka CIRay), but I throw in my OC, CIA Director Levi Carew. I'm considering including Ray in the next installment of my CIA series. Haven't decided for sure yet, but considering it. You don't have to know anything about my series beyond the character of Carew in order to enjoy this story...if you're going to enjoy it at all. I just found Ray's character to be strangely compelling in the episode tonight and I decided to write about it...and it's pretty depressing. I don't expect a lot of readers on this since I know Ray is not well-liked, but here it is.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own NCIS and I'm not making money off this story. Carew is my own invention, but the character of Ray Cruz belongs to the NCIS franchise.

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><p><strong>Lost<br>**by Enthusiastic Fish

Ray lay in bed, soaked in sweat.

Another nightmare.

He really couldn't believe what he'd become. Not too long ago, he'd been Ray Cruz, CIA agent. He'd been happy. He'd found a woman he loved. He'd been thinking about proposing.

Now? Now, he was alone. He was unhappy. ...and he might not have his job. Sadly, the only thing he was unsure of was the one thing that he didn't care about anymore.

Everything had seemed so clear. He was going to stop a bad man from doing any more damage. ...and he had done that. At first, he had felt like that was all that mattered. He had told himself that getting rid of Norton was worth the cost. Any cost. He had tried to tell Ziva that. ...but that was after he had started to question it himself. Saying it to Ziva was just a last desperate attempt to get his life back.

...but how could he possibly get back his life after what he'd done? He'd killed an innocent woman...and a woman he knew. Not well, but he knew her. He had known her personally, and he shot her. He had murdered an innocent woman.

Ziva's words, although he'd denied them at the time, had burrowed deep into his brain and now he could just hear them repeated over and over again. He had ruined the life of one man and taken the life of an innocent woman. A _good_ woman. Someone who had done her best to help take down the man Ray had killed.

Giving up on sleep, Ray got out of bed and walked into the main area of the hotel room he'd taken. There was a mini bar. That wasn't enough for what he wanted, but it would be enough for now.

Enough to help him stop thinking.

He emptied one of the bottles into a glass and he drank it. He didn't even look at what it was. It didn't matter so long as it was alcohol.

As he thought about what he'd done, his mind moved from the woman he'd killed to the woman he'd lost.

Ziva didn't know it, but he'd lost her when he'd gone after Norton. When he'd been assigned to track him down. ...when he'd given her that stupid empty box. He hadn't known how real that empty space was. The ring wasn't real. The ring was the fantasy. They had grown apart during his time away. She had become softer...and he had become...someone other than himself. Individuals mattered to her, as they had always mattered to him before he'd seen the damage one individual could do.

He'd lost her all that time ago, but he had tried so hard to get her back. Maybe he could have done it if he hadn't committed murder. It didn't even matter whether or not he'd been found out. _He_ would have known what he'd done and it would have poisoned him...and Ziva by extension.

In a way, he was relieved that Ziva had found him out and rejected his proposal. It was best for both of them, but he knew that he wouldn't have been able to resist.

Ziva was a representation of all he'd been, and if he had been able to get her back, it would have been a parody of getting himself back.

All he wanted was that...and that was all he could never have.

Where did that leave him?

Lost.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

...but the problem with being lost...is that you can be found again.

Ray woke up the next morning with a blinding headache, the sun in his eyes...and an awareness that he was not the only person in the room. He could have scrambled for a gun or something, but he didn't care enough to try. If he was being taken out...at this point, it would be a tender mercy. He was too cowardly to kill himself.

"Good morning, Agent Cruz."

He squinted toward the speaker.

"I've seen you looking much better."

"I've felt much better," he mumbled.

"You've been operating on your own for a few days...and it all blew up in your face."

Finally, the voice registered on his fuzzy brain. CIA Director Levi Carew.

"Director!" he said, his eyes opening wide.

Sure enough, the director of the CIA was sitting on the couch looking at him gravely...but with a hint of amusement in his famously black eyes.

"Yes. You made a big mistake, Agent Cruz."

"I know. I killed an innocent woman."

"No. You got caught."

"That doesn't matter. Maybe to _you_ that's what matters, but to me...all that matters is that I've lost everything."

"Oh, that matters to me, as well, but not for the same reason."

"Then, what is it? You're not just here to fire me. The director wouldn't stoop that low."

"Never underestimate how low I'll stoop...but you're right. I'm not here to fire you. You have a couple of options here, Agent Cruz. Soon, you can no longer be an agent of the CIA. You know that already."

"Yes."

"Good. Here's the problem: the woman you killed has a husband who is a detective. He was devoted to her, and he won't be satisfied by your disappearance."

"Are you saying that I have to be killed? Show up in the harbor or something like that? Fine," Ray said. "I don't care."

Carew smiled. "No. That's not what I'm saying. That's certainly one of the options, but that's not what I'm offering."

"Why not?"

"Because you're no use to me dead...but you are alive."

"What do you mean? You just said I couldn't be in the CIA."

"Not officially. I have use for a man like you."

"I went off the grid, killed a target on U.S. soil and killed an innocent woman...a woman I knew. A good woman who was trying to help us. What use could you have for me?"

"Well, not much when you're nursing a hangover. You're of use because you've learned a lesson. You've taken an innocent life and you'll never let that happen again. Will you."

It wasn't even a question. It was a statement.

Ray thought about how wrong things had gone...and while a lot of it was a selfish regret, he didn't think he'd ever get rid of the feeling of guilt for having taken a woman's life.

"No, I won't."

"Exactly. Here's your choice, Agent Cruz: end up in the harbor...or the river or wherever you'd prefer...or start seeking your penance."

"Doing what?"

"Things that need to be done."

"I think I'd rather just end up floating in the river."

"Is that your choice?"

Ray looked at the enigmatic director. That was a genuine question. Ray rather thought that if he said yes, he wouldn't live two more minutes. Tempting, but Ray's feelings of guilt didn't _quite_ overcome his latent desire to live.

"No. It's not."

Carew smiled once more. The smile didn't reach his eyes, but it was friendly enough.

"Good. Sober up. Pack your bag and be in the lobby in two hours. A body matching your description with confirming DNA and dental records will be recovered from the Potomac, and your family will be informed of your unfortunate death. You will be moved out of the country tonight."

Any protest Ray might have mustered died unspoken. His victim hadn't had a chance to say good-bye. She would never be with her family again. What right did _he_ have to let his family know he was alive? What right did he have to want to tell Ziva anything?

He had no rights at all. He might as well become a ghost.

Ray nodded mutely in agreement. Carew was gone in seconds, as silently as he'd come. After he left, Ray sat back and looked around the room. His last view of the life he'd destroyed.

He would live, but he wouldn't really have a life.

He'd always be lost.

Two hours later, he was.

FINIS!


End file.
